Alfred, who?
by Shuuka-over-Rin
Summary: Why, who is this America you speak of?" Francis asked almost too sarcastically. At that point, England was about to have a fit, "Alfred! Don't pretend you don't bloody know him!"
1. America?

"No! You can't touch that Ameri-" Screamed England as he quickly jumped up from his sleeping position, stretching his hand out in front of him where his dream used to be. "Huh….?" He said to himself, letting his hand fall back to his side. The confused country looked around. He was surrounded by several sheets in a large, old fashioned, wooden bed.

"Oh….." He sighed, rubbing the sleep of his eyes. "It was just a dream."

It wasn't everyday that England had a dream about little America. Actually, he hardly ever remembered his dreams, so even if they were about America, he would never really know. Too tired to get ready, he crawled out of bed and stretched.

"Stupid kid, trying to play with my musket like that." He muttered, discussing his own dream with himself as he pulled on his bedroom shoes. Memories of his little 'brother' filled his head with confused thoughts. England never knew where to store those emotions, so he simply hid them away; where America, China, or even France couldn't reach them. He lazily zipped his overcoat up over his shirt and pulled on a new pair of dark green pants to match his jacket. He pulled a black strap that held his outfit together over his head and ran a small comb through his hair in attempt to make himself look presentable.

"Well, here's to another day." He said as he set the brush down and sleepily walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"You look dead." Declared a familiar voice from the kitchen table.

"What are you……" England mumbled softly, "I mean, who is, wait…..what?"

The taller country gracefully slipped out of his chair and walked over to England, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"I _said_," He announced again, "You look like someone just sapped you in the face with a raw fish."

"That's not what you said." An annoying England argued, shoving the man's hand off of him. "What are you doing in my house anyways, France?"

France sighed, "What? Am I no longer welcome in my own home?"

England stared at him blankly. "What does he mean by 'his own home'?"

"Shame on you, dear sir, shame shame." Laughed France, who was now waving his finger at the confused country.

"Since when do _you_ live _here_?!" England fought back, suddenly awake. "This is **my** house, I've owned it ever since I found America! Now get out, will you?"

France laughed, "America, huh? He is another one of your fairy friends, isn't he? Or have you just gone insane?"

"W-what?" England asked, struggling to find the words. "What do you mean fairy, no…wait. America! What do you mean you don't know America?"

"What do _I _mean? Dear brother, what do _you_ mean? Don't you hear yourself? Blabbering on about some imaginary, Amanica or whomever we are talking about!" said France, gently setting his coffee mug on the table.

England was starting to get red in the face. Why was France pretending he didn't know America? America sat next to him at the meeting only yesterday!

"If this is some kind of joke, then just quit while you are ahead, Francis! I'm done with playing these damn games with you!" Yelled England, slamming his fist on the door frame in which he was still standing under.

"You know what? Forget it." Said France, putting his hands up. "I clearly have no idea what you are trying to get across here, so just drop it."

England moved out of the way as France stormed out of the kitchen. "It's only nine in the morning and you already have yourself all worked up." He muttered to himself as he marched up the stairs to his room.

England heard the door slam from upstairs. "Stupid git." He pouted. "What right does he have to make up things about America?"

It was strange to him how that every time France or anyone else brought up America; England always ended up defending him. He slowly sat down in one of his antique chairs, sinking back into the seat so that his back was flat against the seat of the chair. He could just picture America coming out of nowhere shouting 'England! That is no way for a proper Englishman to sit!'

"That's so America," He laughed to himself, sitting up. "He's always making fun of what I do, no matter what it is."

By now, England was over what France had said. He had convinced it was just a joke. "It's no big deal, just another prank."

But he still wondered why, of all things, France pretended he didn't know America. What was so funny about that?

"I doubt I'll ever understand that guy," He said to himself before standing up and heading over to the sitting room. He pulled the curtains open, letting bright rays of morning sun shine through the glass. He sat down at his desk, pulled open the top, and snatched a small pocket-sized album from inside.

Small edges of old photos stuck out of the book. England gently opened the front cover, hoping it wouldn't tear from old age. It was a memory book, full of pictures of both America and England when they were living under the same roof. But when he saw was had been placed on the front page, both of his eyebrows lifted together to form a very confused face.

"What is this?" He asked.

He flipped through the book, watching picture filled pages fly by. But something was wrong; there were pictures in the book, but they were the wrong ones.

"Did I get the wrong book?" He asked himself, looking at the cover. "No…."

All of the pages weren't filled with the ones of him and Alfred like he had pasted originally. They were full of unfamiliar picture he had no memory of taking.

England stopped at one; on it were several photos of him and the other Allied Powers. His eyes moved from one face to another. Yao, Francis, Ivan, himself…..but no one else.

"Where's America?" He wondered.

He franticly skipped through the pages, searching for the pictures he was looking for originally. He had put them in himself; old photos of him and little America, all put together in a tiny little memory book. He remembered putting some new photos in it a while ago, but none of the ones that were in their now matched the ones that he had put in.

"Where's America….?" He said softly, small tears forming in his eyes.

He let the book fall from his grasp and land on the floor in a crumpled mess. Without the pictures of his little brother, the whole book had no value to him anymore.

"No one could of stole them," He assured himself. "My desk is locked at all times."

"But, where could the pictures of gone?" That was the question that bothered him so much. They were his last physical memory of his good times with America; how could he of let them get away from him, almost the same way America did?

Just saying that to himself brought painful memories back to England's thoughts. A cold, rainy night, a battle field full of wounded, tired soldiers, and two men; drawn even farther apart because of some stupid little thing called 'independence'. What was so good about being independent anyways?

A hard knock at the front door was all it took to scare the living hell out of England. He quickly stood up to answer the door, pausing to check who it was through the window.

"May I come in-aru?" The man said.

England slowly opened the large door. In front of him stood a country of rich, vast lands and a thick culture; China.

"You are mighty slow today! It may be the week's break, but we still have work to do-aru!"

"Yao." England said suddenly, "I'm sorry, I am just a little out of it today. Francis is playing games as usual and my pictures of-"

Before he could say anymore, Yao put his hand on the taller country's shoulder, "It's ok, I understand. I can come back tomorrow if you would prefer to meet then."

England was about to agree, but before a word could get out of his mouth, Francis had overheard their conversation and was already at the door.

"Of course we're not busy today!" He sang happily, shoving England out of the way of the door. "This guy's just being a bit of a grump this morning, that's all."

England didn't respond. He denied himself the day of rest China was offering to give him. There was work to be done, how could he think this selfishly when there was work left unfinished?

"Are you sure? England looks awfully tired-aru!" Yao asked again.

"No, really; it's fine." Said England, opening up the door even more, so that there was room or the three of them. "Please, do come in."


	2. That' country

The three of them sat at England's dining room table. England still had no idea why France thought this was his house, but he thought bringing it up would cause a distraction from the meeting.

"I wanted Ivan to come, but he's so bust around this time of year-aru." Explained China. "If he was here, we would all be able to discuss our plans equally."

"Oh, Yao." Hummed France. "When will you learn that what they don't know can't hurt them? Ivan is better off by himself anyways. "

"What was that?" Asked a voice from behind him.

France quickly turned around, almost jumping out of his seat to see who it was. "R-Russia?" He stuttered in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

The tallest country was standing almost directly above France, with his sink pipe raised high above his head as if he was going to strike. As if he had been caught, he quickly lowered it and sat down next to China.

"Never mind that, how'd you get in?" England demanded.

"Door was open." He said simply. "You should lock it before some weird creep finds his way in."

"Y-yeah….." Said France, who was still shaking from the surprise.

"Well, now that we are all here, I guess we can start the meeting-aru!" Said China; cheerfully breaking the awkward moment.

"Wait a minute, where's America? If we are discussing something important, he should know too." England stated, even though the idea of having the 'big hero' here made his saying sound more like a joke.

"Not this again," Moaned France.

"What do you mean 'not this again'? Why do you act as if America does not exist?" England said, raising his voice as he neared the end of the sentence.

"America……?" Asked China "Is he a friend of yours?"

"Not you too." England said, annoyed that China had also joined France's little game.

For the first time in a long time, he looked over to Russia for support.

"Sorry, England. I don't know either." He said.

England stood up out of his chair so quickly that it fell to the floor behind him in a crash.

"What the bloody hell if wrong with you all?" Yelled England, his face red with anger. He slammed him paper down on the table and left his friends in a rush. China called after him, but was quickly stopped by Russia.

"He needs some time." He said in a surprisingly understanding tone.

China looked up at France, who had gotten out of his seat too but had not left the room. He put his hand on his hip and sighed.

"Really brother, what has gotten into to you?" He asked softly, so that only he could hear.

"That damn France! Always having to go too far!" England yelled, kicking a rock with his hard boots. He huffed down the dirt path he had escaped on after leaving the meeting. He had left through the basement door, a route America used to use all the time to hide back when he stayed at England's house.

He headed up a small hill that lead to the forest behind his house. There, he could prove, not only to the others, but to himself of which he was having many doubts, that America was real. He reached a small cabin, one that he had first built for America to use when he wanted to be by himself.

Tears gathered up in his eyes when he first saw it. Memories of his little brother filled his head with painful flashbacks.

He yanked open the door, which was covered in moss and old leaves, and walked in. At first, he expected there to be America's old toys and maybe even some clothes, but once the light shown through the window, he saw that it was nothing like he was expecting.

The walls of the room were covered in different types of weapons. Guns, missiles, large diagrams of battle plans; all tools used for the destruction of others.

"What is this place?" He asked. "Surely it can't be…."

He walked to the back of the cabin and looked at the tables that were set up around the small room. They too were covered in maps and different types of gadgets and complex war-like machines. Tears were brought to his eyes when he found a map of the world. His eyes searched the different continents; Asia, Africa, Europe, South America and…..what? He saw other islands and continents like Australia and Antarctica, but there was one more. One more, just an ocean away from him.

"America…..?" He whispered softly.

He put his hand on the map, refusing to believe his own eyes. The map was exactly the same as it was every other time he had seen it. Seven large masses of land, each with their own name and territories. But this time, there was one, just one, that didn't fit.

"So you found your old house. Eh, England?" A voice said from behind.

England spun around in surprise, coming face to face with France.

"Really," He said smoothly, "I never thought you would return to your old weaponry. Or are you just too eager to return to the olden days, Captain Arthur?"

"What do you want?" England sniffed, quickly wiping away his tears.

"First," Said France in a very straight tone. "An explanation. You can't just run out of a meeting like that and expect everyone to go along with it."

England snorted, not even bothering with a response.

"Second, I want to know what is bothering you so much to the point wher you are making up stories about some imaginary country."

When he got no answers, France decided this wasn't a time for jokes. "This isn't a game." He assured his brother. "I want to know what is wrong."

France couldn't see England's face, but he could see two small tears fall from the side of his face to the floor. He slowly approached him, but England just backed away.

"France." He said weakly. "Who is that?"

The taller country looked to where England was pointing; a larger country that was just above where Cuba lives.

"Who is that?" He repeated.

France didn't know how to answer. He and England had claimed that territory a long time ago, but they never really brought it up. Silence took over the room, leaving both of the countries to suffer through the moment.

"Tell me, dammit!" England demanded, banging his fist on the map. "That country...

"that country...right _there_."


	3. No You

"Who is that?" He repeated.

France didn't know how to answer. He and England had claimed that territory a long time ago, but they never really brought it up. Silence took over the room, leaving both of the countries to suffer through the moment.

"Tell me, dammit!" England demanded, banging his fist on the map. "That country..."

"that country...right _there_."

"You should know very well what it is," France said barely above a whisper.

England stared at him, tears now falling more than before.

"It's…….the rest of us." France said trying to think of the right words to say. "Back when we found……...that _kid._We fought, and he ended up becoming one with you."

"What?" England pressed, desperate for an answer.

"You know," France struggled. "That kid, he couldn't stand being alone. You took him in for a while, but he tried to become one on his own. He got used to the whole idea of being a country, and….well, he just……"

"What?!" England yelled, grabbing France by the collar holding him up to the wall. "What happened?" He said in a threatening tone.

France tried to avoid his hard, cold stare. "Why don't you remember…..?" He asked. "It's hard enough for me to have to explain your whole history."

A sudden burst of wind blew into the room, causing several of the maps to fly off the walls and onto the ground. One of them was the map from before; the one with the unnamed continent.

England, still holding France against the wall, stared at it for a brief second and noticed something that hadn't been there before. The northern continent had been divided into sections; small outlines that had been covered in dust now revealed themselves to England. France nearly fell to the ground after England let go.

"Territorial; property of France. Property of England." He read off the map. "What….what is all this?"

"The way we divided him equally." France said blankly, readjusting his collar. "It wasn't fair for there to just be some random continent, lying there with no purpose. So we split it up, equally of course, so that we could all hav-"

"Shut up!" England shouted.

He picked up the map and blew the rest of the dust off. The familiar outline of the America and even Canada had been drawn over by new boundaries and lines that were new to England. Several colonies and territories were split up by thick border lines that kept each state apart from each other.

"We couldn't decide; who got what, what the land held, anything really. It was chaos back then. But it is all settled now." France said, stumbling over his words.

"How did this……I mean, when….." England stuttered.

France put his hand on the smaller countries shoulder. "I'm sorry. But there is America no more."

"A-America…." England whispered, thick tears falling from his face.

He cried out to the darkness, "A-AMERICA!"

"…what?" An annoyed voice called from the distance.

"America!" England yelled as he quickly jumped up from his sleeping position, stretching his hand out in front of him where his dream used to be. "Huh…?" He said to himself, letting his hand fall back to his side. The confused country looked around. He was surrounded by several sheets in a large, old fashioned, wooden bed.

"I'm right here, jeez." Said the voice again.

England rubbed his eyes, trying to get a clearer view of what was in front of him. He no longer stood in an old, worn down cabin. Instead, he was in his own bed, with one of the youngest countries at his side. He looked over to the younger, shaking his head in disbelief.

"A-America…?" He asked again.

"The one and only."

England surprised the younger country with a big hug.

"I thought you were gone..." England cried.

"B-but I'm fine…" America said innocently, surprised by his brother's actions. "…what in the world'd you think could bring down a hero as awesome as me?" He laughed.

England felt himself began to fall back asleep; a quick faint. America quickly grabbed his arm and helped him get back onto the bed.

"You fainted at France's house and have been shouting weird things in your sleep ever since we got here." Alfred explained quickly.

"You mean, you took me home…?" England asked.

America's smile returned, "Well, I _am_ the hero!"

England smiled weakly and then laid back in his bed, exhausted from his dream. "I was right then, you are real. Stupid France"

"What?" Asked America with a confused expression on his face. "England, did you have a bad dream?"

"Why do you automatically assume that?" He argued back.

America laughed, "Well…?"

"It wasn't a bad dream. Actually, now that I think about it, it was pretty nice." England teased.

"Full of freaking unicorns and burnt cupcakes I'm guessing?" America asked with a chuckle.

"Well maybe it was," Mumbled England, who turned to face the window comparing the world of the dream to his own, which only made Alfred laugh even harder.

Arthur shrugged it off, "But I don't think I could live there for more than a night's sleep."

"And why's that…?" America asked, dreamily resting his head on his hands, tired from his own adventure.

"Because there was no you."


End file.
